


heartfelt declarations of love aside, i think we could make this last forever

by majesdane



Category: Skins (UK)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-20
Updated: 2010-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesdane/pseuds/majesdane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It happens, like everything else between them, completely unexpectedly.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	heartfelt declarations of love aside, i think we could make this last forever

_  
il était une fois._

 

 

 

Naomi goes to Goldsmiths.

She doesn't want to go, of course, but it's only under the reassurance from Emily that a week in and a half in Goa is more than enough time, and really, they'll have time to travel plenty once university is over. Emily says this as she presses Naomi down onto their bed (it's still remarkable sometimes, Naomi thinks, how she sees everything as _theirs_ ), Emily smothering all her quiet protests with a kiss and a knee pressing up between Naomi's thighs.

It'll be okay, Emily says, later, covering Naomi's face with kisses, as Naomi brings her down, fingers trailing lazily along the curve of Emily's hip. And besides, I want you to do this -- you've always been clever and uni will be good for you. _You_ actually care about things. She says the last bit laughingly, moving in to kiss Naomi, bumping their noses together clumsily.

 

;;

 

Three days is all it takes; halfway into Naomi's first week at university, Emily takes the train up to London. They make love almost frantically, and Naomi wonders if maybe they've actually been apart for longer than three days, because somehow it feels like she hasn't seen Emily in ages.

I thought we'd be okay, Naomi says, only half-seriously, much later when they're dressed and sitting on a bench on the university green, watching the sunset.

Emily's hand reaches across the space between them, finding Naomi's, fingers intertwining. I thought we would be, she says, giving Naomi's hand a gentle squeeze. But I suppose I underestimated my ability to miss you.

Naomi laughs and Emily flashes her a wide smile before leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Naomi's mouth. And then, pulling back, she says, Really, though, Naomi. I'm serious. I _have_ missed you. And Naomi wishes she could say that it's no big deal, that they only just saw each other last week when Emily came along with Gina to help Naomi set up her room in the hall. But the thing is -- and she can't help the way her heart hurts a little at the realization, like it's been squeezed -- she's missed Emily too.

Besides, Emily says, with a smirk. The beds here are far too narrow. They're not the proper size at all.

 

;;

 

Emily finds them a flat nearby and Naomi moves out of the halls the following weekend; they don't even bother unpacking anything and instead spend the whole weekend making love in every room of the house. To christen it, Emily says, and it's almost like the summer before their second year of college, but this time it's different, because this flat is _distinctly_ and wholly _theirs_ and somehow that makes it that much better.

Later when they're lying on the kitchen floor, Naomi laughs and pushes Emily's sweaty fringe back and it feels as if the past year never happened. It feels like that first summer together, where they spent most of their days in Naomi's bed, getting high and making love lazily, when everything seemed bright and wonderful and there was no crying or fighting or loneliness so vast it felt like an ocean. And Emily grins and rolls Naomi onto her back and it only takes a second, for Emily's hand to slip between Naomi's thighs, fingers pressing neatly against her. Naomi bites down on her bottom lip, arching her back; Emily trails kisses down her neck, and it doesn't matter that Naomi's muscles are aching or that the linoleum is uncomfortable, because she's just so glad to have _this_ back.

She's glad to have _Emily_ back.

(She won't lose her again. She can't.)

 

;;

 

I'm thinking about getting a job, Emily says, over dinner (Chinese takeaway).

Naomi quirks an eyebrow. Oh?

Well, I kind of need to, don't I? Emily swallows a mouthful of roast pork fried rice. It's nice of your mum to help us out paying for this, but if we're -- well, you still want to go travelling, don't you? After uni?

Of course, Naomi says, reaching over to cover Emily's hand with her own. You know I do.

We'll need money for it, then, Emily says, feeding her a piece of Peking chicken. And obviously we can't depend on your mum forever; I don't think that would be fair. So Katie's going to help me find a job; she thinks I would be good at like, being a receptionist or something. And she's -- well, she's alright when it comes to these sort of things, so I think it could be okay.

You're not going to uni then? Naomi sips her cider. Ever?

Emily closes the space between them, wiping a bit of sauce away from the corner of Naomi's mouth before kissing her once, chastely. Does it matter to you? If I don't go?

No, Naomi says, kissing her again. I'm just surprised.

I'd be rubbish at it anyway, Emily smiles. I wouldn't be able to concentrate; I'd be far too distracted to get anything done.

Distracted by what? Naomi asks, taking another drink of cider.

I shouldn't need to tell you _that_ , Miss Naomi Campbell, Emily says, knitting her fingers into the front of Naomi's jumper and pulling her in close, kissing her so hard that Naomi can feel her teeth through her skin. Emily pulls away and puts her mouth right up near, whispers, You should already know.

 

;;

 

It happens, like everything else between them, completely unexpectedly.

They're on the sofa in their flat, Naomi lying down with her head in Emily's lap; Emily's stroking Naomi's hair, sometimes twirling a strand of it around her finger, watching as it falls away in loose curls, only for a moment. Naomi's half-asleep when Emily says it, as the telly switches from an advert back to the documentary about African wildlife that they were watching. Have you ever thought, Emily says, looking down at Naomi with a soft smile, have you ever thought about how nice it would be if things could just be like this forever? Us, like this, forever. Just sitting in the sun on the weekend, doing nothing but lazing about? Is that possible?

It could be, Naomi says, eyes closed, her mouth curving up into a smile. We _could_ stay like this. If that was what you wanted.

Is that what _you_ want? Emily asks.

You know what I want, Naomi says, and turns onto her side, kissing Emily's stomach through her t-shirt. I want to never be without you again.

Emily feels something knot up inside her, at Naomi's words, and it suddenly feels as if everything in her life has just been something to push her forward towards this one point in time. You know you're still in uni, she says, after a minute, once her heart has stopped beating a little less quickly. You still have a year left, you know. Don't you think maybe we should wait? Make sure that --

I'm already sure, Naomi says, meeting her eyes, fingers tracing tiny circles on Emily's stomach, under the edge of her shirt, and it's not doing anything to stop Emily's heart from leaping to her throat. I love you.

Katie will want to come, Emily tells her quietly, and suddenly it all feels so _real_ , and she can't really believe it at all, and she pulls at Naomi's shoulders until Naomi sits up, grinning, and Emily kisses her, again and again and again, until she's breathless and her lips feel bruised. God, I love you, she says, wrapping her arms around Naomi's waist and holding onto her tighter than she ever has before. Naomi smells of soap and cigarettes and strawberry shampoo and it's so familiar, but Emily can't help but breathe her in.

I really fucking love you, she says again, into Naomi's shoulder, and Naomi grips her just a little bit tighter.

 

;;

 

I remember the first time I saw you, Emily says.

They're sitting on the beach in Brighton, Emily turning a stone over and over in her hand while Naomi sips at a cherry-flavoured Bacardi Breezer. The sun's just barely visible behind the clouds and even though it's summer, it's cooler near the water; Emily shivers, runs her hands up and down her arms.

Tell me about it, Naomi says, staring off into the horizon.

I was twelve, Emily says, with a small smile, remembering. You were in my History class. Remember? The teacher was a right bore and I never paid attention until one day, when you raised your hand and told him he was wrong. I think -- it was a date that he'd gotten mixed up or something, but he wouldn't admit it. And you kept on arguing with him. He got so angry with you that he sent you to the head's office.

My mum was so proud of me, Naomi laughs, tipping her head back and finishing the rest of her drink.

I thought you were so cool, Emily said, turning her head a bit to flash Naomi a smile. I had never noticed you before that; and then after I _had_ noticed you, I couldn't talk to you. And I wanted to, so much, but you were always sulking over in a corner by yourself. And I just wasn't brave enough. You scared me a little, to be honest. She laughs, reaches over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Naomi's ear.

Naomi smiles, catches Emily's hand, kisses her fingertips. One. By one. By one. She says, And then?

And then we grew up, Emily says. We came back and you'd grown even taller and for the first time I saw just how long your legs were, how soft your hair looked. You have no idea how many times I spent the day in class daydreaming about you. How many times I thought about doing _this_. She leans over, kisses Naomi once, softly.

Naomi slides in closer, wrapping an arm around Emily's waist. Emily sighs and rests her head on Naomi's shoulder. Do you ever wonder, Naomi starts, after a bit, wonder what our lives would have been like if I had --

Emily silences her with a kiss. It wouldn't have been like this, she says. It wouldn't have been like this at all.

 

;;

 

Naomi likes the way their rings sparkle in the sunlight.

Emily's asleep, sprawled out on the bed beside Naomi, the covers only half on her, hair in stark contrast with the bright off-white colour of the pillowcase. Naomi's still not used to the idea of Emily with dark hair; she hadn't wanted Emily to dye it, but Emily had insisted.

We're married now, she'd said. I want a change.

It'd been different, but not bad, and after Naomi'd done a bit of sulking, she'd decided that Emily's hair looked nice, and anyway, it reminded her of when they first met, back in secondary school, before they'd turned fifteen and Katie had decided that having coloured hair was much better than having plain old brown hair. They'd made love on the sofa when Emily'd come home from work that evening and it felt like somehow everything had finally come together once and for all.

Now, lying in bed in the early morning sunlight, she looks so small. Older, but small, still. Naomi can help but smile and Emily mumbles something in her sleep, rolling over and pulling the sheets around her, wrapping herself up in them.

She's reading, when Emily wakes. Morning, she says.

You're lovely, Emily says.

 

;;

 

They go to Goa, again, make love on the beach at midnight under the stars and almost get caught. They go to New York City in the winter and walk through Central Park in the snow. Emily slips on a patch of ice and she grabs Naomi as she falls and they fall together, to the ground, and snow gets in Naomi's shoes and it's so cold it feels like it burns her skin. And Emily brushes the snow from her hair and kisses her flushed cheeks. They go to France and drink wine and Naomi attempts to whisper French sayings in Emily's ear, with a terrible accent.

They visit Katie and Cook, in Bristol, go out to dinner with them and spend the evening dancing to old pop songs in Katie's living room, until Cook passes out from too many shots and Katie complains that her ridiculous heels are killing her. And Emily and Naomi sleep in the guest bedroom and stay up talking until dawn and sleep until noon, because they know no other way than this.

And it's all lovely, really, even when they go to visit Emily's parents and Jenna is still pretending like one day Emily is going to decide that Naomi's no good for her and leave her once and for all. Even if James is still pervy and Rob is still awkwardly nice and Emily's bed is too small for them to sleep comfortably in it. It's lovely because it's _them_ , Naomi thinks, lying in bed while Emily showers, burying her face in the pillows and breathing in deeply, smelling Emily's lilac perfume and peppermint conditioner.

But nothing is as lovely as the time, when, back home, Naomi knocks over a container of coffee. It spills out all over the counter, in a dark, grainy mess. Naomi curses and Emily laughs and kisses her and uses a spoon to draw a heart, in the spilt coffee, the counter top bright and bold against the darkness. And Naomi takes the spoon from her and writes their initials in it: _n.c.+ e.c._

I love you, Emily says, standing up on tiptoe and kissing the corner of Naomi's mouth.

Yeah, Naomi says, hands settling on Emily's waist. I know.


End file.
